


Return To Manacor

by jaekayelle



Series: Manacor [2]
Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-03 23:12:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaekayelle/pseuds/jaekayelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the end of the tennis season. Roger goes back to Manacor to see Rafa and to figure out what's next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return To Manacor

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to Holiday in Manacor. It's probably not necessary to read that story first, but it could help.
> 
> Disclaimer: this is a work of complete fiction.

Roger opened the door of his beach house. Before he could get a good look at who was on the other side he found himself with an armful of a solid, warm Rafa, who smelled like sun and sea and _home_. 

“Rogi!”

Winding his arms around Rafa and nuzzling his face into his neck, Roger whispered, “Rafa. I missed you so much.”

They hung on tightly for a few more moments. Roger asked, “How did you know I was here?” 

“Papa say he see a car, a rental parked in front of the empty house down the beach. I come see for myself. No reason to believe, but I hope is you and it is!”

“Yes, I'm here.” Roger grinned. Rafa looked tanned and fit and healthy, and none of those things had anything to do with his knee but all were good to see anyway. 

“You're rent this house again?”

“I bought it, actually. We're neighbours. I hope you don't mind.” Roger really hoped Rafa didn't mind. He should have asked first. This side of their relationship was only a few months old, and they hadn't even seen each other since September. It was the end of November now. 

“Yes?” Rafa sprang away from him to walk further into the house, and then pivoted on his heel, his arms outstretched and a look of pure delight on his face. “You live here now?”

“Well, still in Switzerland and Dubai, but maybe a holiday home?” Feeling somewhat better about his impulsive decision to become a resident of Manacor Roger took a step and then another, closer to Rafa. “When you're here, in Manacor, you know.” 

They stared at one another – Rafa grinning so wide his face might split, and Roger tentatively smiling back. 

“Si! YES!” And then Rafa was wrapped around him and Roger had one hand under Rafa's right leg, practically holding him up, and being kissed to within an inch of his life. 

Breathless, Roger asked, “So you think this is a good idea?” He grinned impetuously and was kissed many more times for his efforts at humour. Rafa set his right foot down and spun them around. 

Roger noticed the front door was still wide open. He put a hand out as he swung by it and slammed it shut, so no one could witness their joyful reunion. 

#

“Doing that on the floor is not good for my back, you know,” Roger commented as he stared at the ceiling. 

Rafa lay sprawled across him. Lifting his head he brushed hair out of his eyes and said, “Or my knees.”

“It's possible we could have thought this out more carefully.”

“Not thinking,” Rafa replied.

“No, there was no thinking involved.” Roger thumped his head back on the tiles. “That's okay. I like not thinking when it comes to being with you. It's sort of a no-brainer, you know.”

“How?” 

Roger lifted his head again so he could see Rafa better. “Fishing for compliments?”

Pretending to think about it Rafa scrunched up his face. “Yes.”

“I just love you. That's all.”

Rafa scooted forward on his hands and knees and leaned down to kiss Roger, his lips soft, the kiss full of so much affection Roger could have wept. “I just love you, too.” 

Then he grimaced and sat back on his heels, and up on the balls of his feet. He rubbed his knees, his eyes closed.

Alarmed, Roger sat up and reached for him, his hands trailing down Rafa's arms to his wrists. He covered Rafa's hands over his knees. 

“Are you okay?” He waited while Rafa took stock of his body.

“Si,” he finally announced. “Possible bruise when they hit the floor.”

“Okay. We're not doing that again. We both have to be careful, Raf.”

A worried look crossed his face. “Your back?”

“Is fine. I just get a little stiff lying on the floor. Some stretches and I'll be fine.”

Rafa nodded and then stood up, reaching down to give Roger a hand. To be truthful Roger had more issues with his clothing getting in his way than his body protesting the movement. Roger's pants and Rafa's shorts were open and their shirts off. Roger tugged his pants and briefs back up over his hips so he could stand properly, while Rafa adjusted his clothing too. 

Zipping up, Roger said, already giggling at the thought in his head, “That's one way to welcome me to the neighbourhood.”

Rafa caught the bug and laughed too. “Yes. Welcome! I hope your stay is good.”

Roger slipped an arm around Rafa's back and pulled him close to his side. “I definitely like it here already.”

#

Roger had brought food and supplies, just in case he stayed. Over coffee, after a light lunch, they sat on the patio and gazed at the sea. They were content to be together, to find some sense of who they were after a very long season for Roger and one that had been far too short for Rafa. 

“How's the training?” Roger asked. He still felt there was a Rafa-sized hole at every tournament. 

Rafa shrugged. “Slow. Careful.” He seemed as pragmatic as always. Roger knew it couldn't be easy on him to sit out half the season, unsure of his future in tennis. 

“Do you think you might play at the beginning of the season?”

“I try. I want to, Rogi. I miss tennis. I miss the guys and the fans.”

“They miss you too. I wish I could have come here sooner, but I saw that Juan was here. That must have been nice for you both.”

Rafa brightened. “You read my Facebook?”

“Every time I post something on mine I check yours. And your Twitter.”

“You could get a Twitter!”

Roger shook his head. “Isn't there some kind of word limit on there? You know I like to talk.”

Regarding him sadly Rafa said, “Your would be so popular. The fans love you.”

“Not for me, I'm afraid.” 

Rafa propped his chin in his hand. “How you feel?”

“Feel? I feel fine.”

“Nole won.”

And there it was. Novak Djokovic had indeed won the World Tour Finals.

“Yeah, he did.”

Rafa sat up straighter. “But you beat Andy and you gave Nole a good match. That shot during the tiebreak in the first set...!”

Roger couldn't help but giggle. “Novak seemed a bit put out by it.”

“I think he was impressed, no? He joking around.”

“Well, he did seem to think I couldn't make it good. I wasn't exactly sure, either, to be honest. I hoped. I took the chance and it worked. It was a good match, but Novak played better.”

“You play like that at Melbourne and you'll win!” Rafa sounded so confident. Roger felt pretty good about his chances too.

“I need to practice more. I've been so busy I hardly practiced all year.”

“If that's how you play when you not practice, the rest of us have no chances when you do!” Rafa sounded so positive that it warmed Roger's heart. 

He reached out to cup the back of Rafa's head, grinning at him. “My very own cheerleader.”

“For sure!”

“What should we do today? Do you have plans?” Roger asked.

“No plans except to be with you.”

“We should go out. Sightseeing? I'd like to get to know your island.”

“Not a secret this time that you are here?”

“I'm tired of secrets.”

“Not good for either of us to be out as gay.”

“We could just hang out. No one needs to know we're lovers.”

“Our secret. Is different,” Rafa stated firmly.

“Sounds perfect to me.”

#

They spent the day touring the island. Roger had been there before, to attend a wedding, and lately in September, but it was different with a native Rafa as his guide. They went to the pearl factory, several churches, drove along the coast and, of course, went to the tennis club where Rafa had started playing as a small boy. They picked up a couple of rackets, that neither of them was familiar with, and spent about twenty minutes hitting a few balls. Nice and easy, no running, just slow hits back and forth to each other. 

A few youngsters appeared, sitting in the stands to watch and cheer each successful return, seeming to understand that neither of the pros was going to push it. It was a nice, relaxing way to spend a little time and stay connected to the sport that had brought Roger and Rafa together. When they finished their hit the kids swarmed them, asking for autographs. Someone produced a pen and the two men autographed everything requested, leaving behind a group of very happy boys and girls when they finally left the club. 

“Those were good kids. Polite,” Roger remarked, as he drove his rental car out of the parking lot. 

“Yes, they respect us.”

“Do you know any of them?” 

“I see around – on beach and in town sometimes,” Rafa replied. “No names.”

Roger nodded. He felt content doing this, spending time with Rafa, taking it easy while still doing that thing they both loved. Tennis was his life. He wasn't sure it was still Rafa's, but couldn't bring himself to ask. He worried that his friend might be thinking of retirement. Roger wasn't ready to hear that yet. He thrilled to play Rafa in a match, especially a final, and they hadn't done that since the semi in Indian Wells last March. 

“You go to South America soon?” Rafa asked, just as they pulled up in front of Roger's house.

“Soon, yes. Next month. I needed a break, and then it's back to the practice court, and then Dad and I are headed to Sao Paulo. I hope to meet Pele while we're there. We've been in touch. He sounds like he wants to meet me, too.” Roger was awed at the idea of even being in touch with the football great. They'd spoken on the phone once, and started emailing recently. He had met a lot of famous people in his career, but to be in contact with the great Pele was pretty amazing. 

Rafa made a funny noise that caused Roger to look at him inquiringly. The brown eyes were huge and there was a stunned look on his face. 

“I wish I could go, if only to meet Pele.”

“I know, right? Hey, you could come with us. We have room on the plane. You could join me and Dad and Steph. Mirka's not going, or Paul or Seve. Why don't you come with us?” Roger was getting excited at the possibility and forced himself to rein it in. Rafa hadn't said yes or no yet. 

“Lots of good people go? My Tommy say he go and your Tommy.”

Roger grinned. Both Robredo and Haas had agreed to join the tour, if possible.

“Yeah, Jo Tsonga, and Maria, Serena and Vika. We'll meet Tomasz Belluci and Juan Martin when we get to their cities. The Bryan Brothers.”

Rafa nodded. “I think about it.” 

“Okay.” 

They left it at that. 

#

Later that night when they were in bed, pressed tightly up against one another, Rafa said, “I could go for a few days. Watch you play.”

“Maybe do a little sightseeing?” Roger tried not to hope too much.

“Sightseeing sounds...swell.” Then Rafa grinned at his alliteration.

“Swell?” Roger laughed. 

“Sweet?”

“Sweet works.”

“Super!”

“Silly,” Roger told him.

“Serious,” Rafa looked anything but that. 

“Sneaky.”

“Sexy!” Rafa declared, giggling.

“Sexy,” Roger agreed. He threw back the covers and climbed on top of Rafa. 

“Sheets.” Rafa fingered the cotton, not even trying to stop grinning.

“Smile.” Roger gazed down at his goofy lover. The corners of his mouth turned up.

“Smile,” Rafa reached up to thread his fingers through Roger's hair.

“Simply.”

“Stuffed,” Rafa looked intently at Roger.

“Staring.” Roger leaned down by inches.

“Slowly.”

“So slowly.”

“Si.” Rafa whispered, his mouth a breath away from Roger's.

“Si,” Roger agreed, just before he claimed Rafa.

#

When it was time for Roger to leave Manacor Rafa still hadn't told him his decision. Roger stood next to the car, fiddling with the keys and torn about asking. If the answer was no he really didn't want to hear it. The idea of Rafa going with him to South America was something he wanted badly to happen. If Rafa decided not to go Roger knew he would be very disappointed. 

Rafa leaned against the car beside him, arms folded tightly across his chest. Roger was struck by how similar this all was the last time he'd been here. A few days stolen from the world in order to be together. It just wasn't enough. 

The silence was becoming unbearable. Roger cleared his throat, about to blurt out the question he dreaded, when Rafa spoke.

“I need a favour, please.”

“Anything.”

“I'm planning this trip south and need a ride there. Is possible you are going that way?”

With hammering heart Roger asked carefully, “How far south?”

Pretending to consider Rafa said, “Below Florida.”

“Below...Florida?” Roger fought the laughter in his throat.

“Yes. Is a long way. Might have to go by way of Switzerland?”

“Hey, you know what?” Roger asked. “I think maybe I'm going below Florida by way of Switzerland.”

“Oh? Good coincidence.”

“The best kind.”

“So, I catch a ride?”

“I'm pretty sure that can be arranged, but the flight leaves today from here, and day after tomorrow we go to Brazil. Can you get ready in time?”

Rafa grinned at him and then loped back to the house. He emerged a couple of minutes later carrying a suitcase and carry-on. 

“Where did you put those? I didn't see any luggage inside.”

“Sneaky, remember?” 

“It definitely fits you.”

They stowed the bags in the trunk of the car. Rafa glanced towards the house. 

“When you will be back?”

“Not sure. I hired a nice couple to look after the place and keep an eye on things, until I can get back here. For now, I plan to have a good few days?” He looked at Rafa.

“Two weeks.”

Roger pumped his fist. “Yes! Two weeks in South America with my boyfriend.”

“Vamos!”

“You could help me, maybe, with my Spanish?”

“We both learn Portugese!”

“That too!”

Roger had a feeling the southern continent was never going to be the same, after it was invaded by the Gillette tour. Rafa's addition was only going to make the trip even more crazy. 

He couldn't wait.

# end


End file.
